Till We Get It Right
by csipal
Summary: UPDATED. It was a pleasant evening with smiles and laughter and ... everything. Everything that he had missed about her over the years. GSR. WIP
1. Chapter 1

**Take two on the challenge lines for last week. I just had to write an angst-y one – that and mossley just wouldn't leave me alone ;) **

**Thanks to Nessa Owen for the beta (go read her latest WIP!)**

**Do I own them? No. Do I want to? Yeah. Okay, owning them may be a little much but I wouldn't mind going out for coffee with them. **

* * *

**"I don't want to know," Brass sighed, **his frustration evident. "All this talk about bicuspids and incisors – just tell me how many guys we are looking at here."

"Captain Brass, I understand your frustration. I'm just here at the sheriff's request; take what you will from my findings – it's not like this kind of case is run of the mill," Dr. Jason Scott signed, his translator verbally relaying his comments to the group before him. Deaf from birth, Jason never quite developed his vocal chords well enough to speak, but over time became experienced in lip reading. "I found at least two – maybe three - distinct impressions, but DNA results from the bites show that there were at least fourattackers."

Another high-profile case meant another case with interference from the sheriff. Four days ago two bodies were found hung from the rafters in awarehouse – both riddled with human bite marks. Labeling the murders as ritualistic, the press began to hound the sheriff's department. Ignoring Grissom and Ecklie's objections against outside interference, Burdick brought in the deaf forensic odontologist and also handpicked the team he wanted handling the case – Grissom, Catherine, Sara and Brass.

"And other than that we have had hundreds of anonymous calls about men chanting in dark cloaks and networks of people offering themselves for testing to the aliens. Only in Vegas does murder become a joke." Catherine raised her arms above her head and stretched. The hours were long and they were wearing thin and her stomach had growled one too many times tonight. "I'm tired. How about we take a break; get something to eat?"

Grissom removed his glasses and closed the file in front of him. "Catherine's right – we're not getting anywhere right now."

"Pizza?"

Jason shook his head and his hands danced fluently. "I've had pizza for the past two days – surely Vegas has more to offer. Burdick is footing the bill while I'm here. Let's get something that we don't have to peel the grease off of."

Thirty minutes later they sat at a dimly lit table in a restaurant three blocks from the lab, sipping on drinks. To everyone's surprise, Grissom offered to translate for Dr. Scott while his translator took his own break for dinner. The change of scenery lightened the mood of the investigators and for just a few moments they were able to forget about the stresses waiting for them at work.

The relaxed setting brought out an even more interesting development. It started out with Jason asking questions of them all - where they came from, where they went to school - but his inquiry quickly became focused on Sara, much to Grissom's dismay.

Reading the movements taught to him at an early age, Grissom repeated Jason's language verbally to Sara. He was learning more about Sara, but not the way he'd envisioned. Suddenly the ice tea in front of him wasn't strong enough to get him through this meal.

"What happened next?" Jason asked.

"Well, apparently he couldn't swim and we were too far out for me to pull us back in, especially since he was freaking out. He put on the remaining life jacket while I had to tread water for an hour before our friends noticed we were missing."

Jim piped in from behind his glass of water. "Did he get a second date?"

"No. But I was promised a good view and he delivered. It was a beautiful place."

"I've been to San Francisco – it's a wonderful area. Why on earth did you …" Grissom paused then, not really wanting to finish Jason's question question, "did you make the move to Vegas?"

He had to hand it to Sara; she kept her eye contact with Jason and answered with very little hesitation. The only indication that the question bothered her was the new smile she plastered on her face. The carefree smile from a moment ago was replaced with one less genuine and maybe even a little sad.

"There were opportunities here that I wanted to explore."

"And were your explorations fruitful?"

"I've been told that 'the best intentions are fraught with disappointment.'"

"Ah. So what kept you from leaving?"

"Stubbornness." At Catherine's snort she looked over and smirked. "Hey, I can admit it. Maybe a little foolishness. But the lab itself is a great opportunity – one that I'm honored to have."

"Are you sorry you came?" At first it struck Grissom as odd that everyone suddenly turned their head towards him. Then realization hit – that was _his _question, not Jason's. It was the first time that Sara looked at him since they sat down to eat and the confused look on her face made his chest hurt in a way he couldn't describe.

"No, I'm not."

Jason's sudden movement brought Grissom out of his trance and once again he acted as their liaison. "I would consider your stubbornness a good thing. Without it, we would have never met."

Sara's smile was beautiful and shy at that moment. And it was directed toward Jason.

It was when the waiter left the table with their empty plates and Jason offered to teach Sara some signs that Grissom snapped. Everyone saw it coming, even Sara – she was surprised he lasted this long. Jason lifted her hands and slowly helped her sign 'will you have dinner with me'. When Sara looked to him for a translation, Grissom cut in with a flurry of hand signals that stopped the other doctor cold.

"What are you saying to him?" Sara asked. When Grissom ignored her question she looked to Catherine who just swiped a strand of hair away from her face and shrugged.

_"What are doing?"_

_"I'm asking her out."_

_"Here? In front of everyone? I don't feel comfortable translating this. Besides, we are in the middle of an investigation."_

_"She's a remarkable woman and I want to know her better. We're away from the lab, we're having dinner and from the looks of it, she's having a good time. The investigation - is that the only reason?"_

Grissom paused, wondering if he was that transparent. _"It's reason enough."_

_"For now," _Jason signed, without malice. _"Dr. Grissom, I _will_ ask her." _He wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood. _"I'll trust that you'll extend my apologies for leaving so abruptly. I'll meet you guys back at the lab." _With once last smile in Sara's direction, Jason turned and left the table.

"What happened? Where is he going?"

"I assume to the lab. He asked me to extend his apology and he'll meet us there later."

Catherine straightened up and threw him a disbelieving look. She wasn't buying this nonchalant attitude and from the looks of it, neither was Sara. "Gil, what the hell went on here?"

"It was nothing."

"Nothing?" Sara asked. "What did he say that would bring this on?"

"He wanted to take you out to dinner."

"Uh, oh." Brass finally made his presence known but his utterance earned him the scrutiny of the two ladies at the table. "What?"

Sara turned her head back to Grissom, her mouth slowly opening in realization. "What did you say to him?"

"That this isn't the place for that. We're supposed to be working."

"We're on break, in a restaurant, having dinner." Sara opened her mouth to say more but promptly shut it, tapping her lips with the tips of her fingers in an attempt to hold in the awful words waiting to spill out. "What is your problem?" She couldn't hold them all in.

Just a few short minutes ago things were fine. Well, they weren't fine but they were okay. Jason was just a flirt then, not a suitor. Grissom looked across the table at Jim and Catherine. They were staring at them with rapt attention – the only thing missing was a pail of popcorn. "We shouldn't do this here."

"Why? You had no problem with them being here when you created this scene – what's the difference?"

"I'm not talking about this here."

"Well, I'm not going to talk about it at all."

"So it's here or nothing?"

"It's nothing. There is no reason why this should be a topic of conversation between us."

"Sara…"

"You can't have it both ways," she whispered solemnly.

"He's deaf. The communication barrier can be … difficult. He can only give you but so much." Even he knew that he was grasping for straws with that last comment. He'd never felt as embarrassed or as shamed as he did at this moment. The fact that his love for this woman could make him do such a ridiculous thing angered him.

"I think that we're proof that communication barriers exist even between the hearing. Deafness wouldn't have been an issue with me. It saddens me that you would think differently." Her words settled on him as he watched her stand and slide into her jacket. It didn't take a genius to know that she was talking about him and his old hearing issues rather than Jason's. "Grissom, it's time – well past time, actually. I'm going to accept his dinner invitation."

And then she was gone. Feeling uncomfortable with the turn of events, Brass looked on, feigning interest in the dessert cart that passed by. Catherine's focus remained on Grissom, who continued to stare at Sara's vacated seat with a look of disbelief.

"Gil-" she started.

"Why don't you two go back to the lab. I'll be with you guys shortly."

"Okay." She placed a hand on his forearm and gave it a firm squeeze. Turning to Brass she motioned to the entrance. "Let's go."

Brass walked up to Grissom and leaned down to his ear. "Gil. My house. After shift. I'll have a tumbler waiting for you. Attendance is mandatory."

"You think he'll be okay?" Jim asked once they passed the hostess desk.

Catherine shook her head sadly. What was surprising about this evening was the lack of surprise. They had played this song and dance for years and everyone knew one day the song would end. She just wished it ended differently. "I don't know. She didn't have to be so harsh."

"Neither did he. He's my friend, too, but you know he brought this on himself."

"Yeah."

They turned to glance at their friend one last time before leaving and the sight of him still staring at the seat saddened them both. The man they knew to be strong and resilient was now sitting in the middle of a room filled with people talking, laughing, loving – and looking more alone than ever before. The only person that could make this right moved on right before their eyes and neither could deny the pride they felt at her decision. Taking sides was never an option - the battle between friendship and the right thing to do would be ugly. When Grissom picked up Sara's discarded napkin from the chair, they could see him take a shaky breath and that moment revealed a part of him neither were familiar with. Sara's absence weighed on him and they could do nothing but stand there while the cracks in their friend's heart became too deep and wide to remain whole. When it finally broke, **they** **watched as the pieces fluttered through the air.**

**What? You want another chapter? Yeah, okay. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow. Thanks for all the reviews. They were awesome … made my day. **

**Thanks to Laura Katharine for being the beta for this chapter. She's awesome, too (but you all knew that.)**

**This is a response to the improve challenge lines for this week at YTDaW.**

* * *

**"I need an engagement ring." **

It was a dream. He was still sleeping, but it was one of those times where you knew you were dreaming. It was the same one from the night before and both times he willed himself to remain asleep and change the ending. Each time he failed.

He dreamt of love and Sara and classical music and vegetarian lasagna. It was surreal – the way dreams usually are. Everything was insanely bright and clear and the colors were so beautiful. The skies burst into shades of blue and pink when she promised she would love him forever – and all because he remembered she was vegetarian.

In this dream he was younger – he was the man she met years ago and he was confident and sure and he made her toes curl just by the heat of his gaze. In this dream he never made mistakes, and he never passed up chances.

In this dream his mother could hear his voice and Sara's. She would remark on the soothing nature of Sara's unique cadence and would comment on how lucky her son was to have that beautiful sound wash over him everyday. She would stuff them with peach cobbler and hassle them about living so far away.

Sara's mother wouldn't be in jail, her father wouldn't be dead and she'd never experienced pain of any sort. In this dream she grew up in a happy, loving household. She would tell him stories of her childhood; playing hopscotch with the neighborhood kids, going on family vacations. And when the trip down memory lane ended, she would discuss plans for the anniversary party she wanted to throw her parents next year.

In this dream, he wanted to marry her and make her his wife. Or maybe just be engaged to her for the rest of his life – that kind of promise being more than enough.

But it ended the same as the night before. Him purchasing a ring. Him losing the ring. Jason finding it. Jason offering it to Sara.

The classical music would fade, and his refrigerator would be filled with every meat imaginable. It was weird, because there was even ham, and he hated ham.

The bright colors would slowly diminish to a muted grey as he stood in his living room with empty hands, empty shelves and an empty heart.

* * *

He didn't know why it came as a shock. They had been dating for almost eight months. Actually it was seven months and twenty three days. He didn't mean to keep track but one tends to remember the day they stopped breathing. He was a scientist, he knew that the body could not live without oxygen but somehow he was defying science. Sara Sidle always took his breath away, but this time she stole it, quite violently, from his lungs. If he were honest with himself, he would place the blame solely on his shoulders. But he wasn't an honest man; if he was, he would have her by his side.

There would come a point in time when her and Jason would exchange vows and she would no longer be Sara Sidle. She would be Sara Scott. Or Sara Sidle-Scott. At least her initials would be the same. He wondered if she were to be _his _wife, what name she would use. Would she hyphenate? Would she take his name and then joke about who gets to be called Griss and who gets to be called Grissom? She would probably keep her name as a display of independence; he wouldn't mind. She would always be Sara Sidle to him.

Three days ago she came into work and never said a word about it; she just silently wore her ring and went about her business. A part of him recognized how professional that was and how some of it may have been to spare his feelings. Or Greg's. Or Archie's. Or anyone of the half-dozen men who fell under the spell of that gap-toothed smile.

He left work that day and called in sick the next. Someone else was going to marry her and her gap, her curls and her legs … her light. He knew that he shouldn't take pity on himself, but damn … his soul ached.

His mother told him years ago that his life lacked color and that he had to go out and find it and claim it and make it his. He didn't have to search for that color – she stood in the doorway of his office, she crouched by shoe impressions and dead bodies at crime scenes, she smiled at him from the passenger seat of his vehicle – the wind tossing her hair. He claimed her and made her his; he just neglected to tell her that.

And so here he stands in his living room, beer in one hand and paint brush in the other, trying to change his life with a thirty dollar can of paint. It would take two coats, but that was okay. You don't always get things done on the first try.

When the doorbell rang, he ignored it. Nobody came to visit him anymore, even Catherine's visits became few and far between until they stopped completely. If it was Catherine, she would barge in, look at him with pity, ask if he was okay and then go off with the 'I told you so'.

The ringing didn't stop; in fact the person on the other side was quite persistent and having way too much fun with his doorbell. Stealing himself for the whirlwind that was Catherine, Grissom opened the door and faced the last person he wanted to see right now. Sara.

"What are you doing here?" It was a reasonable question, but he hoped he delivered it without accusation.

"Ecklie needs these signed. He said that there is no way you can be too sick that you can't sign off on the time sheets – I was the only one available to drop them off." She shrugged and walked past him, giving him a once-over before taking in the state of the living room. "You don't look sick."

"I feel sick." He did, and it was getting worse every second she was here.

"Sick people don't drink beer and paint walls. What are you doing?" she asked, squatting down to stir the paint. She knew what he was doing and it irked him that she was trying for small-talk. This wasn't what he needed – not from her or anyone for that matter.

"I'm trying to bring color back into my life," he answered dispassionately.

"It looks good so far. It'll go well with your sofa."

Grissom slowly sat down beside her on the floor; his knees cracking, reminding him of his age and time gone by. He felt rather than heard her soft gasp when he reached over to take her hand, inspecting the ring. "When's the big day?"

"We haven't decided. We're not in a rush."

He still toyed with her hand, flipping the ring around. This isn't her. Gold; marquise cut. He would never buy something like this for her. He would buy her a ring from an antique shop – probably the one in Marina Del Rey, near his mother's gallery. He always loved that shop. The diamonds would be embedded in white gold – a mid century piece that would be beautiful to the eye but practical enough for the job. She would appreciate that.

"I don't want you to marry him." Those words weren't meant for her ears, but they were spoken, much to his disbelief – and hers, apparently.

"Why?" She pulled her hand gently from his grasp and looked away.

"You know why."

"I don't know how you would expect me to know anything."

"If I …" he paused and took a moment to think about his question. It was wrong – very wrong but … "If I asked you to not to marry him, would you still?"

"Yes." Her answer came with no hesitation and way too much confidence for his liking. "I don't have any doubt that you would make me happy, but he makes me happy, too. I made a commitment to him – I don't take matters of the heart lightly."

Her statement opened up a whole new world of pain for him. She held no grievance in her tone - it was almost apologetic. He thought he would be the only one for her, but damn, she seemed so well-adjusted to the idea of that not happening. "Are you saying that I do?"

"No, I just think you grossly underestimated me and my feelings – my intentions."

Grissom watched as she repeatedly pulled the stirrer from the can, apparently finding the way the paint drizzled back in very interesting. He did underestimate her, but maybe he underestimated himself as well. A relationship with her was all he wanted at this moment, and suddenly the obstacles that kept him from her seemed unimportant. He wondered if they ever were.

There was, however, an obstacle of great importance. It didn't matter how much he loved her or if he begged her – she was going to marry this guy. Her loyalty always amazed him, but he didn't know how _not _to be the one she was loyal to.

"So, how did you do it?" he asked, bringing his knees up to drape his arms over. "How did you stop loving one person enough to love another?" _Tell me how to cope._

"I didn't. I just loved … differently. I don't want to stop loving you – I wouldn't recognize myself if I did." She stood suddenly and picked up an extra brush, swiping her eyes with her other hand. It happened so quickly that Grissom almost missed it. He catalogued her movements from the uneven rise of her chest to the slight shake of her hand when she dipped the brush into the paint. This did affect her, and suddenly he felt foolish for thinking otherwise.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm helping you."

A part of him wanted her to leave – her presence only making the ache stronger. The other part him wanted to lock the doors and never let her leave and trail his apologies across her cheek, her neck and collar bone in the form of kisses. He wanted to remove that ring that just kept getting bigger and bigger the more he looked at it. Was it shining that brightly a moment ago?

She was taken.

"Grissom?"

She was no longer his. God, she never was.

"I'm going to get us something to drink," he said, getting up and walking backwards into his kitchen. He needed to regroup; he needed to breathe. With a wry smile, he gestured toward her left hand – her ring that just wouldn't stop catching ever ray of light. "**Don't get any paint on that!"**

TBC …


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to Nessa for the beta read. Response to the YTDAW improv challenge. First and last lines provided – 2000 words or less.

Oh, and I do not own CSI.

Thanks to all who have read and reviewed. I'll try not to keep Grissom in the depths of despair too long!

* * *

The ringing of the cell phone shattered the unnatural quiet. As Sara answered the call, Grissom continued to drive, silently welcoming the interruption. Silence between the two of them was an old friend but lately the stretch between words served only to highlight the odd direction their relationship had taken. They didn't ignore each other – they just didn't talk. Grissom knew that if they did talk, it would all be over because he was at the point of breaking – the last thing he wanted to do was ruin their friendship.

He actually chuckled at that and ignored the look of confusion coming from Sara's direction. The title of friends wasn't something that really applied to them anymore. Actually, the only type of relationship they had was a working one and that, at times, had been tenuous. You take away the job and there would be nothing left between them.

God, how could something that was so much more than … _this_ just disappear?

He was sure he loved her and that she still … loved him? Cared for him? It was the whole 'not ever being together' that left him bewildered – or rather in a state of denial. More than once he just wanted to shout, 'what the fuck?' to the sky, to anyone who would listen … to Sara. He knew it was selfish and insane but he couldn't help but feel cheated – she was supposed to wait for him, right?

Her laughter, directed toward the person on the phone brought him back to reality. From her side of the conversation, it seemed as though Greg was trying again to throw her an engagement party. For the past couple of weeks Sara had declined the offer, joking about Greg's feminine side coming out in all the wrong places. Unfortunately, it seemed that after much persistence and shameless begging, Sara was caving in.

"Okay, okay," she relented. "One condition. No, my condition - not yours, Greg. Well, maybe they'll be a few conditions."  
_  
I am going to kill Greg. With my bare hands.  
_  
He didn't want to be invited and he definitely didn't want to go. She probably didn't want him there, anyway. Or did she? Would she be hurt if he respectfully declined? Would his absence make this whole situation even worse? His stomach was on fire over the thought of everyone quietly speculating the reason for his absence and why he would once again do this to Sara. Surely she would understand.

Grissom kept his eyes on the road, knowing that if he looked at her now, his heart would break even more. Her smile would match the light in her voice and – damn it – why wasn't that smile for him!

Deep down, he knew that he should be happy for her. And he was. He was happy that she was in love; that she worked less overtime; that she and Ecklie had even started getting along better. The only problem was the source of this change. His name was Jason – it should have been Gil.

Grissom grimaced at his petulance and wondered if he'd ever get to the point when he was going to put his hands on his hips and pout. This wasn't usual behavior for him, but the instruction booklet on how to get over the love of your life must have gotten lost in the mail along with the one on how to have a successful relationship. People do this everyday – why is this so hard? He rubbed just below his sternum; surely, he was developing an ulcer over this.

"Hey, Greg? Thanks. This, uh, this means a lot." He listened as she stumbled over her gratitude, realizing that even though she had earlier refused, the party was something that she wanted.

"Yeah, yeah – don't get all sappy. See ya," she said, chuckling and closing the phone.

She was happy. Happy. Hearing her thank Greg … she was touched that someone was doing this for her. That someone wanted to celebrate her decision to love someone for the rest of her life. This was a big deal for her. Damn. And it should be. She moved on and he had to as well – it was time. He will go to the party, kiss her cheek, shake Jason's hand and give them his blessing. And then he would go home and throw up. He could do this for her. For Sara. This is what she wanted and he loved her and this is what you do when you love someone. You put them first. You put their needs and wants before your own.

"So you finally caved?"

"Yeah," she answered, waving the phone in her hand, "Sometimes it's just easier to let Greg have his way."

"Don't let him hear you say that."

"Trust me, I won't."

And then the silence resumed.

He hated this. He hated that he was the one responsible to make it better. Lying wasn't something that came easy to him. Denying – yes. Hiding – definitely. But not lying. The only thing he could do right now was lie – perhaps maybe the biggest lie. That he was over her.

"So, um … what does one give as a gift for an engagement party?" _You're doing this for her.  
_  
"I, uh, I don't know. I don't really want anything." He could tell that this was making her uncomfortable – hell, it was uncomfortable for him.

"That kind of makes it hard for the gift givers, don't you think?" His voice was a little too joyful and forced – he could tell and knew that she could, too. Maybe they could share this lie.

"Grissom…"

He restrained from wincing at her tone. It was a little too soft and a little too knowing. Why couldn't she just let him pretend? "What?"

"Thank you."

He glanced over and immediately regretted it. The look on her face gave away too much and he wished the gratitude and warmth it displayed was a little less obvious.

"For what?"

She turned her head toward the road with a soft smile. "_Your _gift."

_Damn, this hurts.  
_  
_THIS was the right thing to do. This was the RIGHT thing to do. This was THE right thing to do. _

Doing the right thing SUCKED

* * *

Greg surprised Grissom, and everyone else apparently. The decorations were a little gaudy and excessive, but the subtle background music was tasteful and the spread was nice – very nice. In fact, he would say that Greg probably had this party catered. He didn't know exactly what he'd expected, but he did know that chips and dip and pizza rolls were the first things that came to mind.

Because of a space issue at Greg's apartment, the party was held at Nick's, which everyone found a little funny since Nick was the one that came down on Greg the most for throwing a girly party.

The streamers were overboard and it seemed as though Greg bought out Vegas' supply of wedding dove decorations. There were doves carrying wedding rings, kissing doves, doves in wedding dresses and tuxes and doves hanging from the ceiling.

Grissom looked over at Nick who was talking to Sara and Warrick. He was saying something about how he was going to have nightmares about doves mating in his home and that every single one better be gone when the party ended. Grissom wanted to cut in and ask if this wasn't already a nightmare – it must be, because he totally felt out of his body and every movement felt like it was in slow motion.

Blocking out the laughter surrounding him, Grissom picked up one of the tiny doves that formerly topped the cake. He was flipping it around when Catherine plopped down beside him, nudging him with her elbow.

"So, what do you think about all this?"

"Greg did a decent job."

"Yeah, he did alright. I'm not talking about that, though."

_Of course not. That would mean you were minding your own business. _"Catherine …" he warned.

"I'm talking about the engagement. Come on, what are your thoughts?"

"Seems a little sudden."

"Gil, not all courtships lasts for years. Besides, I don't think the wedding will be anytime soon. Warrick said that Sara mentioned that it may be a year before they get married – something about Jason being booked throughout the next six months on seminars and such. God, you think Greg bought enough paper doves or what?"

Grissom looked up just as Sara left Warrick and Nick to take her place by her fiancé, who was with his translator, chatting it up with Jim. He closed his eyes just as Jason's arm slid around her waist to rest low on her hip.

"White doves signify a peaceful solution to any disagreements which may be troubling you. They are released as a pair at a wedding to symbolize leaving the past and starting a new life together. The cooing of doves also promises reciprocal love."

"Yeah, but Greg here didn't get just two – he has a whole flock!"

He sighed, wishing that Catherine would leave him alone. "It's been said that a flock of doves predicts the return of an old friend from a distance."

"Not all distance is measured by miles."

"I know."

"So, am I the only one who wonders if his translator goes on dates with them? How weird would that be?" Catherine swiped a loose strand of hair away from her eyes and shoved his foot with her own. "Okay, you were supposed to laugh at that."

She was trying to lighten the moment; he knew that much, but her way of doing it left a little to be desired. "Nothing about this is funny. I'm trying my best to put on a brave face – can we please not talk about this?"

"Hey, no problem. You need to understand that this is happening, Gil. You have to make a decision on how you're going to deal with this. You can turn away from the comfort of friendship, but just realize that turning away from the comfort of love was what got you here."

His relief at her departure was short lived. The happy couple made their rounds, saying goodbye to their guests and thanking them for sharing the day with them. When they got to him, he did what he promised he'd do; he kissed Sara's cheek and shook Jason's hand, letting the translator convey his well wishes. What he really wanted to say was that if he hurt her, he'd kill him, because she has had enough pain for a lifetime – but how could he when he himself caused so much of it.

He didn't leave. In fact, he stayed to help clean up – much to the surprise of Nick and Greg. His motivation was all about clearing away the day and getting rid of every single one of the doves. He spent the next half hour making sure each dove found its way to a new nest at the bottom of the trash can.

The room began to resemble Nick's living room once again and Grissom felt a misplaced sense of accomplishment. Small victories like this eased the pain marginally which was better than not at all. Finally feeling as though his stomach could handle some food, he made his way over to the leftover spread to grab a bite before leaving.

The funny thing about denial is the way it can strip you down to nothing when it's taken away and no matter how you try to sweep things under the rug … or how you toss reminders in the trash can. All he wanted was something to drink and what he got was a dose of reality.

Grissom hung his head and sighed as a lone dove floated in the punch bowl.

TBC ...


	4. Chapter 4

Much thanks to Marlou. She was the (un)lucky beta for this chapter. I should say that anyone who ever betas for me … well, they deserve medals. Anyway, she rocks.

And oh my – the awesome reviews I've been getting! You guys are great and I'm so glad that you're enjoying this story.

I still don't own them. I tried to get a loan to buy them but my husband needed a new car!

This is a response to the YTDAW improv lines. Oh, and I have to thank mossley for bailing me out of the beginning!

Um … yeah. I think I'm done yackin' it up

* * *

"How did a cactus end up there?" Sara mused, taking the report from Doc Robbins, handing it to Grissom.

"It's not like it's a whole cactus, just a piece of one," he replied, sitting down and releasing his arm from its crutch.

"But still … a cactus. That had to hurt."

"It's safe to assume that it wasn't pleasant. You know, this isn't all that odd - I've found pen caps, bubble gum, rocks – people will put anything up their nose."

"Uh … no, things go _out,_ not in."

It was funny. All the things she'd seen, it was the little things that seemed to bother her – Grissom loved that about her and thought of it as one of her endearing traits. He couldn't help but cut in and ribbing her, knowing her aversion to germs and bacteria. "Well, it's not bad considering what goes in your nose everyday when we breathe. Dirt particles, dust mites, germs … what's a cactus compared to that?"

When Sara grimaced and reached up to rub her nose, he saw it - or didn't see it, rather.

Her engagement ring was gone.

Her long fingers were beautifully naked and he decided that he liked them that way. A lot. She could have taken it off for the visit to the morgue, but the autopsy had already been performed - they were only there to retrieve the autopsy report.

The next few minutes were a blur and he vaguely recalled saying goodbye to Al. When they left the morgue, Grissom trailed behind her, keeping his gaze focused on her hand, waiting for the ring to magically reappear. Surely his eyes were playing tricks on him. Maybe she forgot it or perhaps she just decided not to wear it at work. Maybe it meant she wasn't engaged anymore.

"This is driving me crazy," he muttered under his breath.

"What's driving you crazy?"

Grissom twisted his lips, wondering if he should just tell her the truth or try to worm his way out of even answering. He could almost imagine himself telling her of this crazy dream he had – how real it was. How in the dream she'd moved on and promised herself to another man and there were rings and parties and even doves in tuxedos. He would revel in the confused look she would give him; the way her brows would crinkle and draw together; the slight downturn of her lips. And as he always did, he would silently wish he were in the position to kiss that pout into submission.

Of course, none of that happened. He just followed her down the hall, feeling like he couldn't quite catch up with her, no matter how fast the pace. Thoughts of the previous years and how she was the one trying to keep up with him were short lived. He didn't want to think about her pain or his avoidance because that would mean that what was happening now was fair.

But still, the ring wasn't there and as long as it didn't return, he would be content. He wouldn't be happy or ecstatic or elated – he didn't know if that would ever happen. For him to ever experience those feelings would mean that Sara would forgive him for his behavior and let an old, foolish, lovesick man have another chance with the care of her heart. That thought excited him and discouraged him. She was a smart woman – brilliant, even. Even he knew that moving on was the best decision for her.

He glanced down at her hand again. Still bare. This was real – she really wasn't wearing her ring.

"What does the evidence tell you, Grissom?" Oh how he hoped she was talking about the case, but the upturned brow and the challenging tone of her voice told him otherwise.

"What?"

"Stop staring. It's not going to suddenly materialize - it's in Boise with the owner. You'd be pleased to know that you were right – the communication barrier proved to be a little too much."

Was he pleased? Yes. Was it right? No.

"How do you expect me to respond to that?"

"With honesty, what else?" She shook her head as if to rid herself of the sarcasm and anger. "You know, just forget it."

"You're upset."

"Jason and I have split up; it more than upsets me."

That statement was delivered softly with sadness and regret, and much to Grissom's dismay, it broke his heart. He didn't want her hurt. Not by him or by Jason – or anyone really.

"You want to grab some breakfast with me?" he asked, wincing at the incredulous look thrown his way.

"No."

"I didn't mean … I just-I thought you might need a friend."

She looked at him skeptically. "Are we friends?"

"We used to be. Do you think we could be friends?"

"How do you expect me to respond to that?" she challenged.

"With honesty, what else. Though, I would have to admit, I'm a little nervous by what your answer would be."

"Why would you be nervous?"

"Because I know I'm asking a lot." He was. He knew he was. Asking her for a stick of gum would be asking too much but he just wanted to be there – for her.

"I don't know, Grissom."

"Think about it. In the meantime, you can eat blueberry waffles while you're trying to ignore that I'll be eating steak and eggs."

He took her resigned sigh as a yes and guided her out of the building, ignoring the fact they still had an hour left of their shift. They silently agreed to walk to the diner, and Grissom strode beside her instead of behind. He felt as though a ceasefire had been called on the war they fought with each other and themselves. He may not have her in his arms as he did in his dreams, but he'll have her across a greasy table, sitting with him; spending time with him. For the first time in a long while, he just wanted to be her friend.

"It's going to rain – you can smell it," she said, crossing her arms and keeping her gaze toward her feet.

"I know."

"I didn't end it. Jason is the one who broke it off."

He wanted to ask what happened – why in the world Jason left her – but he couldn't. They just continued walking and he continued to wait. She would tell him when she'd be ready; he just hoped he'd be ready to hear what she had to say.

It was two whole blocks before he realized they passed the dinner, but still he walked with Sara, letting her determine how far they would go.

"He traveled too much. Him being away wasn't the issue – I'm used to my alone time. The problem was communication."

"Did he get you a TTY?"

"Two of them, actually. He bought me a portable one for my cell phone and a printable one for home." She paused, and Grissom could tell that she was wrestling the decision to continue. He wanted to be there for her but now wondered if he was the right person for the job. "Jason thought it would be great to have our conversations on paper, that way our relationship could be documented like one long love letter."

Now he really didn't want to talk. Thoughts of what their conversations were about flew through his head - they existed on paper - probably in a safe, sentimental place that was easily accessible. Like a book. He wondered if Jason gave her a piece of himself, disguised as an odontology book, just as he did when he gave her the entomology book. She probably had those conversations tucked in the book, ready to pull out and read when she missed him. And she did miss Jason: her body language and tone made that painfully obvious to him.

"I've been taking signing classes," she continued.

"I figured you would. How have you done with that?"

"Good. I still have a lot to learn. Um … anyway, there were some frustrations – coming from him, mostly. It's one thing to know the signs, and it's another to actually speak with them."

He could see where this was going. It was the same conversation his mom would have with him when he would visit. They would converse for roughly ten minutes before she would admonish him for not practicing and becoming rusty. Sara hadn't been signing for years like he had, the awkwardness of conversing was more than likely very apparent.

"Do you find time to practice?"

"Mostly just during class. Other than that, I'm either working or sleeping. I can't practice with Jason when he's across the country. He just … didn't think it was a priority with me; that I wasn't putting the effort that I should into it. And honestly, I wasn't. I should have made more time for it."

_He should have been patient. He should have helped you. _

Grissom wondered how Jason could love her and then sit there and watch her fail. He reminded himself that he didn't know the whole picture but couldn't help but feel a little anger towards Jason for letting her go. Jason had the gift of her love and gave it back. It was then that he realized that no one treated her gift properly. Not her parents, or Hank, or Jason, and more importantly – neither had he. In fact, the whole act of her still trying to love and be loved amazed him and, if at all possible, made him love her even more.

"What are you going to do?"

"Jason will be done with this series of seminars in six weeks. When he gets home, we're going to get together and see where we stand."

"Do you need any time off? Maybe you could go out there with him for a week or so." _I can't believe I just offered that._

"I almost can't believe you offered that."

Laughing, he shrugged and shook his head. "You just read my mind."

"Thanks, but no. We need the space to think, to figure out what we want."

"What _do _you want?"

She laughed mirthlessly and Grissom understood immediately that it was probably the wrong question to ask. "I think that maybe I should try some reverse psychology with the fates. Seems lately that I'm not really meant to have what I want. So if I say, 'I don't want to work things out with Jason' will that mean he will arrive on my doorstep and we can start over?"

"Is that what you want?"

"What I want is to get it right for once."

_Me too, Sara._

The air felt heavier than it did before. It was hard to say if it was the impending rain or if the weight of his heavy heart that constricted his lungs. They walked and walked, the dark storm clouds above them having nothing over the sky as the colors began to shift from a dark indigo to a lighter blue, the sun not too far behind.

She wanted to be with Jason and Grissom wasn't blind to the opportunity that he was presented with. He could help her get what she wanted. For once, he could make her happy even though this would be the death of him.

"I could help you."

"How do you figure?" she asked, doubtfully.

"We can work on your signing. You can practice with me."

The pause was just a little too long and Grissom could swear that he could hear both of their hearts beating.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Listen, you'll be helping me out, too. I also need the practice. According to my mother, my signing is crap," he said, shrugging his brows at his weak attempt at humor.

He watched as she considered his proposition and wondering what the hell he was thinking – he couldn't do this.

"Okay."

His eyes closed at her breathy response. He had hoped she'd turn him down and change her mind about her wants, but if he learned anything today, it was that those thoughts – those wishes and dreams – were futile.

"Good. Good," he said, clearing his throat, hoping that the slight crack in his voice went unnoticed. Turning his head away from Sara, he cursed the burn that was making its way up his chest and into his throat. Swallowing became difficult and so he opened his mouth and released the air from his lungs slowly.

"Thank you," she said, quickly tapping her hand on his elbow.

He could only nod, not trusting his vocal chords to cooperate. Hands in his pocket, he continued his pace beside Sara, afraid if he'd stopped walking he would crumble to the ground.

Mother-nature must have felt pity for him and cried the tears he couldn't. The rain started as the sun rose.

_**TBC**_


	5. Chapter 5

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**Disclaimer: **I don't own CSI. Nor do I write for it. If I did, you guys would have had re-runs for the past few months. Which leads me to ...

I'm SO, SO, SO sorry about not updating this sooner. I could go on and on, but then this A/N would be larger than the chapter :( Forgive me?

Thanks to Laura Katharine for the beta - among other things. Her constant prodding and nagging and, dear God, the POKING! Well, it paid off. She wasn't the only one trying to whip me into shape - mossely, Laura27md, Marlou on occasion, Nessa ... Yep. Abusive, all of them.

This is a response to the improv challenge posted on YTDAW. First and last line provided, no more than 2,000 words. I went over.

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**The resonating thud of the gavel was felt more than heard. **It was finally over and a wave of relief could be felt washing over the courtroom. Clive Ford was found guilty for the horrific and highly publicized murder of his ex-wife and her newly acquired family. The quadruple homicide had kept the whole team on overtime four months ago, once again had them pulling doubles in order to prepare.

Grissom followed his team as they left the courtroom, his sluggish stride expanding the distance between them. As he exited the rear of the courthouse, he noticed that everyone had congregated by Warrick's car. Apparently, Tina came to pick him up after court and he now stood behind his new wife with his arms wrapped around her shoulder and waist.

Grissom was happy for them. It never really occurred to him that Warrick was looking for something more outside of work. Grissom knew that he dated and he even heard Tina's name come up once or twice in the weeks preceding their marriage, but for some reason, he always thought that everyone did the same thing he did when they left work. Go home, pretend that loneliness wasn't a choice, go back to work. Instead, he realized that the only thing he was pretending was that he wasn't the only one who didn't have a life.

As he approached the gathering, he noticed Catherine's forced expression. He knew she was also happy for Warrick, but that there was also a part of her heart that was a little bruised over his nuptials. She was on the outskirts of the group, leaning against a car he knew wasn't hers, listening to Tina speak with interest. But his trained eye - and probably Warrick's - noticed that her smile wasn't quite complete.

She was mourning a relationship that never was and probably never would be. Grissom shook his head and smirked in appreciation of her feelings - he knew it all too well. Still, she had Lindsey and her mom and even though she was a little hurt over Warrick, he knew that she had her own fair share of dates recently.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he joined Catherine and gave her a tired smile. "Why are we all still here?"

"Tina wants to take everyone out for a celebratory lunch. So, how about it - you coming?"

"I have plans this afternoon."

"Funny, that's the same thing that she said." She knowingly tipped her head towards Sara, who by all appearances, looked like she was ready to bolt. He imagined seeing Warrick and Tina together reminded her of what she almost had with Jason.

"Well?" Catherine asked.

"It's not what you think."

"You sure? You two have been spending a lot of time together lately."

He did have plans and yes, they were with Sara. For the past two weeks they had been meeting on 'dates' and worked on her signing. Sara was still enrolled in her ASL class she signed up for when she first started dating Jason, but her schedule didn't allow for the practice she would need outside of the classroom. When he first suggested the idea, it never occurred to him how much time they would be spending outside of work. It wasn't like they could sign to each other when you have dusting powder in one hand and a brush in the other. They had been out on five 'dates' so far and each was as uncomfortable as the one before. In the past, spending time with her was something to be cherished, now it was actually something he dreaded and today was no exception. He was tired, he was sure that she was as well, and the last thing Grissom wanted to do was pretend that this was something he wanted to do.

Catherine didn't wait for an answer and walked away to join the rest of the team, minus Sara, piling into the car for lunch. Quick goodbyes were made and suddenly he and Sara were alone, making their way to his vehicle. He started the engine, rolled down the windows and, for what seemed like an eternity, the only sound that could be heard was the soft humming of the car.

Per their agreement to only use sign when they were alone together, Grissom turned, raised his hands and let his motions and expressions speak for him. _"Are you hungry?"_

"_Not really. You?"_

"_No."_

"_We don't have to do this today." _Sara ran her hands through her hair and sighed. He watched as shoved her hands into the pockets of her suit coat, struggling with what she wanted to say. "I can't over-talk when I sign - I lose my wind," she joked, giving up for the moment and talking. "Listen, I know you're tired - I mean, we're all tired and … well, you always seem to want to isolate yourself after long cases."

"_Is that what you think I want now? Get your hands out of your pockets," _he demanded with a raised brow, and he chuckled at the defiant tongue she stuck out at him in return.

The light moment passed as they plummeted back down into their sea of uneasiness. It was obvious that Sara also recognized the awkwardness of their meetings. Neither of them deserved the weight of this tension, and he couldn't help but think that it was mostly his fault.

"_I'm sorry, Sara."_

"_For what?"_

"_For …" _He paused, wondering how to continue. Part of their awkwardness stemmed from the fact that they had to rely on honesty and trust when it came to this form of communication. He had already felt some barriers between them weaken, but to open himself to her at this point would more than likely be in vain. _"We used to feel more comfortable around each other. If we were doing this just a few years ago, you would be smiling and making a corny joke, and I would laugh because back then …"_

"_Back then?" _she prompted.

"_Back then I didn't know why I needed to try so hard not to."_

She winced, and he could tell that the question was on the tip of her tongue - or rather, her fingers. They just weren't in that place anymore. If they were, then she would push the envelope and ask '_why?' _and he would feign ignorance and avoid answering at all costs. Now, he prayed for her to push - he wanted her to demand a reason. He wanted to prove that he could do more and admit to his foolishness.

"_But this is who we are now. And my jokes aren't corny, by the way," _she signed, over-exaggerating her mock scowl.

Sara's levity warmed him and he couldn't help but to send a teasing smirk her way. However, the moment wasn't enough to distract him from the conversation. _"You're right - this is who we are now. That's why I'm sorry."_

"_You … don't have to apologize. I …" _Sara paused, struggling with getting her mind and her hands on the same page. She still fumbled a lot with her phrases, but with her persistence he guessed she'd have no problem communicating with Jason when he returned.

"_Take your time with it. You're really doing great." _When Sara smiled at the compliment, Grissom had to refrain from clasping his hand over his heart. It had been way too long since she smiled like that for him.

"_I could have avoided making things complicated," _she continued.

"_Why do you do that?"_

Her confused look prompted him to expand, even though somewhere in the back of his mind, something was telling him to stop. It was an innocent question, but one that didn't allow for a simple answer.

"_You shoulder the blame. For our problems, your problems with Jason."_

"_I take responsibility." _He didn't need to see her face to know that she was angry. The rapid and sharp movements of her signs expressed her temper just fine.

"_Away from those who should carry it themselves."_

She dropped her hands and turned to face the windshield, opting to speak. "I would have waited forever for you to take responsibility for anything, and your assumptions about my relationship with Jason are way off," she said, her sharp tone even more pronounced, shattering the silent conversation.

"Are they?"

"It's none of your business, Grissom. This part of my life is none of your business." Even though he never had any rights when it came to her, he swore he could feel the '_anymore'_ that hung at the end of that statement.

"Sara …"

She turned to him then and the regret in her voice was palpable. "Your opinion doesn't matter here."

"I .. okay," he relented, scratching his beard and shaking his head at his folly.

"Listen Griss, it's just that -"

He cut her off with a raised hand and resumed their silent exchange. The sound of actual words being spoken made everything all too real and painful. _"Sara, you're right. You're right."_

"_I'm sorry."_

"_Don't be."_

In reality, it was only two minutes, but Grissom would have sworn a lifetime passed before either of them spoke. He didn't want to make her mad or upset, and he cursed himself for being so adept at it. What he really wanted to do was go home. He _was_ tired. It had been a long week, and the last thing he wanted was to sever what little connection they had left.

It was when her hand squeezed his forearm that he realized he'd closed his eyes.

"_So, uh, your mom is deaf. I never knew that." _

Not five minutes ago he upset her, and here she was now, trying once again to bridge a gap. He was nothing short of amazed. All he could do was nod. She was right; she never knew until recently that his mom was deaf, and yes, he never told her. It only just occurred to him that information like that would be something a friend would know. A lover. He never opened up about the simplest of things. Well, not that anything about being raised in a deaf community was simple, but she should have known at least that much.

She must have mistaken his lack of response as disinterest and lowered her head with a rueful smile. _"Never mind."_

"_No." _He reached out to get her attention and bring her focus back to him. _"I mean … I was just thinking about how things could be different if she never lost her hearing."_

"_About what her life would have been like?" _she asked, sliding her left leg under her weight to turn her body more toward his.

"_That would be the selfless thing to do, right?"_

"_What are you talking about?"_

"_Have you ever thought about how different your life would be if your parents were different people?"_

The roll of her eyes and wry grin answered for her, but she replied anyway. _"Do I even have to answer that?"_

"_How would you imagine yourself?"_

He watched as she considered the question. It shamed him to even think about it, but he couldn't imagine her any other way. He never wanted her hurt, by physical force, by words or by actions of others, but my, what a beautiful person she became because of her experiences. She was the best person he ever knew and he wondered if she would still be if she grew up in a different household.

"_I don't know. I think that I would be the same person but without all the weight of … things, you know?"_

"_And that's all?" _He didn't really want to push, but he had to know - he wanted to know more about her.

"_No. I suppose that I would have been able to sustain better relationships with people. Maybe I would have …" _She trailed off and shook her head as if to rid herself of the thoughts invading it. For Grissom, it left more questions.

"_What?"_

"_What about you?" _She redirected the conversation._ "What person do you think you would you have been if your mom hadn't been deaf?"_

He knew the answer to this. He'd known it all his life, but it took Sara's breakdown the year before to help him label it.

"_Emotionally available."_

He wondered if he should have elaborated, but he knew that those words summed up his life perfectly. It applied to his family, his friends, his lovers and Sara, who seemed to fit into a little bit of each category. She had him pegged, but as he sat across from her and looked her in her eyes, he knew that exposing himself to her wasn't a bad thing. He didn't dare name the emotion in her eyes, but he knew it wasn't pity.

"_I think you're doing just fine." _Her face, the movement of her hands … God, he forgot how beautiful and special signing can be. He knew that this line of thinking was going to set himself up for more heartbreak, but he also knew that she was it for him - he was going to love her whether they were together or not.

The moment was broken by the rumble of her stomach, and neither of them could hold back their amused laughter. Taking out his cellphone, Grissom decided to put an end to the lesson and feed the woman. "If I call the diner right now, our plates should be ready for us right when we pull up."

"I could really go for a vegetarian sub."

He grinned and started dialing the phone. This was quite possibly the lightest his heart had felt since Jason Scott walked into their lives. "Okay, one veggie sub. **Tell me how you like it."**

**TBC... **


	6. Chapter 6

_Thanks to Laura Katharine for the beta!_

_First and last lines provided by the improv challenge._

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**A loud cracking noise caught everyone's attention in the otherwise quiet room. **Just hours before the end of shift, Grissom, Sara and Greg were called out to a 419 at a convenient store. When they arrived, it was painfully obvious that they would be working well into the day. The stockroom had been torn to shreds from what looked like a scuffle between the victim and his assailant. Shelves had been knocked over, trash bins overturned and merchandise scattered about, all resulting in the three of them being on their hands and knees for hours, sorting and processing. So when Sara stood and stretched her back - causing the loudest crack known to man - Grissom decided that they all needed a break.

"This should cover it." Grissom handed Greg some cash and headed over to join Sara, who was already perched on the rear of his Denali, her feet dangling the ground.

"It's the rookie thing isn't it?" Greg asked, trailing behind Grissom.

"What?"

"The reason I always have to make the food run - it's because I'm a rookie. That excuse is going to run out one of these days."

Grissom just sighed. He never knew when Greg was teasing or really addressing an issue he had. Greg was getting better about voicing his thoughts and grievances, but the eager-to-please lab rat was still a part of his makeup and right now Grissom didn't know which showed up for work. Grissom had a feeling that Greg was beginning to realize that being in the field wasn't what he thought it was. Getting lunch wasn't in the job description, but cataloguing and processing evidence was and Grissom heard one too many sighs of discontent from him this morning.

As he sat down beside Sara, he sent a wink her way - surprised that he even did so, but pleased by the smirk he received in return.

"Greg, you're paranoid. There's a legitimate reason as to why Grissom and I are staying behind," she said.

"There is?"

"Of course." She looked over to Grissom and tapped his foot with hers. "You wanna tell him or should I?"

The look on her face was playful and Grissom found it incredibly infectious. It has been a long shift and, by all rights, they should be sleeping right now. It wouldn't kill him to play along. Taking his time with his answer, Grissom scrunched his brow and cocked his head, contemplating Greg. "No. I don't think he's ready to know, yet."

Sara mirrored his expression and hummed thoughtfully. "You may be right. I'm sorry, Greg. Maybe next time."

"Since when are the two of you a comedy act? Soooo, I'm getting the foot long Italian, the G-man's getting turkey and provolone on rye and Sara, Sara - no time is a good time for egg salad, come on - what do you really want? Grilled cheese? Facon, lettuce and tomato? A chiropractor for that back of yours?"

"Egg salad."

"Okay, if you must. Since I take pity on your poor taste in food, I'll throw in a chiropractor for free. Well, an amateur one." Greg waggled his fingers. "I've been told these are magic."

"Greg, work your magic on getting us our lunch."

"Right-o," Greg said and ran off to the deli down the block.

Greg touching Sara in any manner, left Grissom with very little appetite. Not long before Sara met Jason, Grissom wondered if her and Greg were getting closer. He knew they never dated, but he imagined that they were heading in that direction. Greg didn't seem to be her type, but Grissom had to admit that he didn't think _he_ was, either. It was then that he realized that it wasn't so much her having a type as it was her just following her heart.

"You're quiet," Sara stated, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"Hmm. Just tired."

"Preaching to the choir." She tapped his foot again. She really was playful.

"Oh, you used to run on less sleep than this - you're getting old," he teased and lightly tapped her foot back, enjoying the moment. It was like old times, only … different. This time he was allowing himself to feel and accept the moment - not bury it away. It felt distinctly like flirting, and for a few seconds he allowed himself to think that it was okay.

It was okay - to him. He wanted to flirt and reconnect and hopefully grow into what they had both wanted at one point or another. The problem was that they still were on different pages and Sara wanted to work things out with Jason. She was perfecting her signing for Jason. The reason he and Sara were getting along better now than they had in ages was, in some part, because of Jason.

It felt so right, but it was ultimately wrong. He suspected that Sara came to that conclusion the exact moment he did, because as he felt his face fall, he saw hers do the same.

"I got your vacation request," he stated.

Sara tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention and began signing. _"Is it going to be a problem?"_

He secretly loved that once she was comfortable with conversational signing, she would prefer to use it in all of their private discussions. Even though she wasn't doing it for him, until Jason came back into town, it was as if it was something that they alone shared. This way of thinking would surely get him in trouble, he knew.

"_Of course not."_

"_So he's going to see an improvement?"_

"_He'll be very proud."_

Not for the first time, Grissom wondered about Jason's expectations when it came to Sara learning sign language. Their courtship involved a translator at the beginning and, he later learned, a lot of writing. Knowing that Sara was the type to over-achieve and push herself to extreme limits to get things done, he didn't understand Jason's lack of patience. However, Grissom wasn't deaf and even though he'd seen his mother go through it, and he had been faced with the prospect himself, first hand knowledge was something he didn't have

"_He'll be back in two weeks, right?"_

She signed slowly, as if she were unsure about the direction the conversation was going. _"Yes. I never thanked you for this." _She didn't have to elaborate on what 'this' was, he knew that she was referring to their signing 'dates'.

"_You don't have to."_

"_Yes I do." _She sat there for a few moments, her brows raised expectantly._ "This is the point of the conversation where you say 'you're welcome'."_

"_I would if you thanked me. You didn't yet - you just said that you never had." _Grissom cocked his head to the side and sighed with mock irritation._ "I'm waiting."_

He watched as Sara's shocked expression slowly transformed into a devilish smile. The sight couldn't please him more.

"_You are something else."_

'So are you, Sidle', he thought with a smirk.

Grissom watched as she became hesitant once more, and then he was worried when she frowned, dropped her hands and started to speak. "Grissom, why are-"

"I come bearing food." They both started at Greg's untimely return. "I included gratuity to the runner, and he thanks you."

Grissom bit his tongue and frowned. He didn't care about the money, but he did care about his alone time with Sara coming to an end. In the back of his mind, he realized that they should have discussed the crime scene that awaited their return, but for the first time in a long while, he didn't put work first. Swinging his legs out of the back of a truck and playing footsie with a beautiful, heart-stealing woman was definitely better use of his time, he decided. Though, he suspected that she wanted to discuss something important, or maybe something that was bothering her, and that did make him a little uneasy. Not sure whether he really wanted to know where the conversation was heading, he decided that the interruption might have been providence. This probably wasn't the place for such discussions.

It wasn't the smell, but the weight of his firmly wrapped sandwich in his hands that caused his stomach to grumble. Grissom thought of how odd it was that when he knew Greg was bringing back food, he was moderately hungry but not to the point of his body letting others know. Now, as he sat with sandwich in hand, he couldn't be more starved. It was because it was in his possession, he knew. There was something about things being_ there_, being tangible, that made you want them more - need them more. Other thoughts swarmed through his mind, but he was definitely sure Sara wouldn't take to being compared to a turkey and cheese sandwich.

Once the food arrived, lunch passed by all too quickly and soon they were back to work. There wasn't as much to sort through as there was before their break, but by the time they were done bagging possible evidence, two more hours had passed. After much badgering, Grissom assured Greg that he wouldn't ignore his request to ask Brass about an additional charge of vandalism, or at least pain and suffering to CSIs, when the time came for an arrest.

Watching Greg take the last of the evidence out to the truck, Grissom decided that once everything was logged in, they would all go home and resume the investigation on the next shift. The body wouldn't be autopsied until Robbins came in anyway, so they might as well get some rest. His knees were screaming, Sara's back was still bothering her and Greg was getting way too slap-happy for his liking.

All Grissom wanted right now was a glass of iced tea, a hot shower and his bed. He would only be able to fit in a couple of hours of sleep, but at the moment, those few hours sounded heavenly. As he watched Sara stretch her back for the fourth time that day, he wondered if she was going to be able to sleep with her back aching. She hadn't complained about it the whole day, but it was obvious she wasn't comfortable. He didn't want her in any discomfort, but he wasn't in the position to do anything about, neither was her un-fiance. She would probably go home, swallow some aspirin and … he didn't know what she would do after that. He knew that she gave up listening to the police scanner ages ago and his visit to her apartment last year told him that she owned reading material other than forensic journals. He tried to picture what she would do in her home, but all he could come up with was a vision of her sitting in her chair, knees up to her chest, crying. That vision had been a constant since that day, and he wished he had better memories of the first and only time her was in her home.

Grissom shook his head sadly and finished reloading his kit. Regrets plagued him, and no matter how he tried, he could never really put things behind him. He couldn't change their past, but their present wasn't looking too bad. They were talking and smiling and, even if it was only today, they flirted. And above all else, his help will hopefully help her regain something she had lost - her relationship with Jason. The feeling was bittersweet.

"We're done," said Greg with a sigh as poked his head in the stockroom. "I'm ready whenever you guys are."

Grissom nodded as Greg retreated once again. Picking up his kit, he looked over at Sara who was leaning against a storage shelf with her arms crossed over her midsection. He smiled as she let out one of her wide yawns.

"You ready?"

"Yep."

He held the door open for her and accepted the shy smile of thanks he got in return. It was the little things like that and their moment earlier, that made him believe that this was enough.

Curiosity got the better of him and he gently grabbed her elbow as she passed. "Wait a minute."

"What is it?"

He really didn't think this was the best time to discuss this, but curiosity got the better of him. "You were going to ask me something earlier."

"Oh. Uh, it was um…" Her gaze dropped to his chest and she released a heavy sigh before looking back up to him. "I guess I just wanted to know why you're helping me with all this. I mean, you're essentially helping me work things out with Jason and … why?"

Grissom let his hand linger on her elbow a little while longer before letting it drop to his side. He didn't know how to answer her because he, himself didn't know the answer. Looking at Sara, seeing her wait for his response, he knew that wasn't the truth. Taking a deep breath, he decided to bite the bullet. She deserved that.

"Because, when you … love someone … or in my case, accept that you love someone, you want them to be happy more than anything."

She stood there, looking stunned, and Grissom started to worry. They really should have gotten some sleep before discussing anything like this. He felt enormous relief when she finally started blinking.

"Oh. I, uh -"

Grissom cut her off with a raise of his hand. "Don't respond. Please." This whole thing was hard enough, he didn't want to hear any sadness or receive pity from her - definitely not about this. She already knew he felt something for her, now she knew _what_ he felt, and in some odd way, it made him feel better about the situation.

"Okay, Griss."

He nodded and reclaimed her elbow, guiding her out the door. He actually told Sara that he loved her. Now, he needed to replace his iced tea with a glass of scotch. Grissom's steps felt a little lighter as they made their way out of the store and he wondered if the weight he released didn't go directly to Sara's shoulders. He wasn't that concerned because** Sara grinned as they walked to the SUV.**

**TBC…**


	7. Chapter 7

_Thanks to Laura Katharine for the beta ;) Yes, I'm still using the challenge lines from YTDAW. I think it's quite obvious that I don't own them._

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**"Who ordered this?" Grissom asked irately **and closed his eyes. After coming in late due to a flat tire, this was not what he needed to hear tonight.

Nick stood before him and shrugged apologetically. "Don't look at me, you need to talk to Ecklie."

"You'd think he'd talk to me before lending my staff to other shifts." He knew that dayshift needed help, but it always seemed as though his team couldn't stay together for two minutes. Dayshift was already short because one of their CSIs got put on bed rest halfway through her pregnancy. The unexpected bout of food poisoning that knocked out two others surely didn't help. No, this lab never did anything halfway - when it rains, it pours.

"I know, man. The last thing I wanted to do was have my schedule shifted again, and I doubt she's looking forward to this, either."

"Who is _she_?" Grissom asked with a sigh, knowing deep down that it had to be Sara. Catherine would have already come in and pitched a fit over the disruption. Even if she didn't, he knew that Ecklie had no problem giving Sara the short end of the stick.

"Sara. He paged us ten minutes ago, told us what was what, and sent us home so we'll be fresh first thing in the morning. My burglary is in the process of being wrapped up, and Ecklie said something about Sara being here all the time anyway …"

Actually, Sara had been cutting back on her overtime - they both had - in order to have time to work on her signing. Trust Ecklie not to notice. As Grissom looked down towards his desk at the timesheets and evaluations that were awaiting his completion, he knew cutting back was no longer an option. He was going to be in the field tonight.

This new development pained Grissom on more than a professional level. This was the last week before Sara's mini-vacation. The last week before Jason was home. With him working nights and dayshift borrowing Sara, he realized their time together was over.

"Dammit," he whispered in defeat. "Do you know when I can expect to have you guys back?"

"Not a clue. I guess I should get going." Nick shoved his hands in his pockets and turned to leave.

"Hold on a second." Nick paused at the door, heeding Grissom's request. "Has Sara left yet?"

"I don't think so. She muttered something about this being complete bullshit and headed over to see Archie. They were analyzing a video that came in on her and Warrick's case when we got paged." Nick pointed his finger and smirked. "But you didn't hear that from me."

When Nick left, Grissom restacked the pile of work in front of him and placed it in the 'in' box. He wondered if Catherine would be willing to take care of the timesheets after shift so that he could work on the evaluations. Grissom flipped through the list of active cases and mentally shifted things around. Catherine and Greg had an assault case that they were still working on. He could remove Greg and give him the B and E. He could also take Sara's place on her and Warrick's homicide. That still left the two smash and grabs and anything else that may come up tonight.

Grissom leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hands over his face. Even though he had in the past, he hated to prioritize cases. The smash and grabs that now sat on the back-burner were important to the store owners, just as the other cases were important to the other victims. It was a no brainer that a homicide _should_ take precedence over theft, but …. Maybe he could see how far along Sara and Warrick were on their case, he may be able to break away from Warrick for a bit to work on the other cases - or see if Greg was ready to juggle a multiple case load. It was doable, but the last thing Grissom wanted was to have a backlog of cases right before one of his own CSIs went on vacation. The nightshift was going to be stretched thin over the next two weeks.

It was just as well, he needed something to keep him from thinking about Sara and her time off with Jason. Not for the first time, Grissom wondered about Jason's dedication to his relationship with Sara. He seemed like a good man, but Grissom avoided him at all costs once he started dating Sara. Sara had mentioned that she and Jason had a standing date for when he came back, to talk things through and see where they stood. Surely that meant Jason wanted to make the relationship work as well. He always trusted Sara's judgment, even when he didn't show it, but he would have to admit that her choice of men had been less than stellar. After all, she did choose Hank … and himself. As much as it would pain him to see them together, having Jason hurt her would be even more excruciating.

Grissom shook his head and sighed - he didn't have time for this at the moment. He grabbed the assignment slips and headed out to find the rest of his team

"Gil, I was just about to come see you." Ecklie joined him just as he rounded the corner.

Grissom suppressed an eye roll in favor of his glare. "I find that hard to believe, Conrad."

"I take it you heard about the change, then?"

"I don't have a problem lending out my people, but I do have a problem with not being involved in deciding who. Nick was done with his case, but Sara is in the middle of a homicide."

"_Was_ in the middle of a homicide."

Grissom stopped walking and took in the man before him. Ecklie had always wavered between hot and cold, but when it came to Sara, he was on permanent freeze mode.

"She's going on leave next week," he warned.

"And she still will. This wasn't a negotiation. I put people where I need them." Ecklie looked across the hall toward the A/V lab, where Sara and Warrick were hunched over Archie, reviewing video footage. He nodded in Sara's direction and turned to leave. "Tell her to go home, Gil."

"Easier said than done," Grissom muttered once Ecklie was out of earshot.

Leaning against the doorframe, Grissom observed the trio until Sara straightened and made eye contact. Her look was one he knew well, and he could tell she was steeling herself for the inevitable.

He looked at her for a long moment before speaking. "How's your case going?"

"The security camera was conveniently out of order at the time of the shooting," Warrick supplied, turning his head towards his boss. Grissom finally broke eye contact with Sara and turned his attention toward the screen as Warrick continued. "However, everything points to this being premeditated. They knew what schedule she worked, when she ate lunch, the layout of the store …"

"We've collected the tapes for the past three weeks to see if they had many repeat customers," Sara stated, taking over where Warrick left off. "There were a handful of people that stopped by the store everyday, but only one that made Susan Winters visibly nervous." She pointed at the paused video showing one of Clark County's latest victims.

"Do we know who he is?"

"No, but he wears the same outfit every day. Just a plain dark polo and light slacks. There are a lot of delivery companies with similar uniforms."

"Well, did you check what delivery company they use?" If Grissom didn't know that was the wrong thing to ask two seasoned investigators, their incredulous looks would have clued him in.

"Yes, unfortunately the store's warehouse is local, so they arrange their own pickups."

Archie looked up from the screen and spoke for the first time. "I'm trying to see if I can find a clear shot of this guy from the front. We're hoping that maybe there will be a logo or something on his shirt. Looks like he did a good job keeping his back to the camera, though."

"I'm sure that wasn't an accident," Sara said sarcastically, crossing her arms.

"Hmm. Warrick, when you finish up here, meet me in my office. And bring the notes on this case, you have a new partner. Sara?" Grissom gestured towards the doorway and waited for her to follow.

_Three, two, one …_

"This is a load of -"

He raised his hand and grinned at how predictable she could be. "I know. Nothing we can do about it, though."

"I hate not seeing a case through." She followed him back into his office and plopped down in the chair with a groan.

"You have to go home, Sara," he said, settling on the edge of his desk and flipping through the assignments that he didn't get around to giving out. This was definitely going to be a long night if he didn't get his head on straight. "Get some rest, your schedule is going to turn you upside down."

When he didn't get a response, he looked up to see her staring at him. This time her look was unfamiliar and, he would have to admit, a little scary.

"What is it?"

"I go on vacation next week," she responded quietly.

"Ecklie assured me that your shift change isn't going to affect that."

Sara shook her head sadly. "It's not that. It's …" She closed her eyes and a quiet sigh escaped her. Suddenly they found themselves teetering on the edge of discomfort, but before Grissom could address it, Sara redirected the conversation. "Where's your Trigger certificate?"

"I, uh, decided to take it home."

"Why?"

How could he answer that? Truth was, after he told her the story about the certificate, he put it in his briefcase to take home. Not because of embarrassment, but because he wanted to keep that secret of his past between them. He had so much more he wanted to share. "It just didn't have a place here."

"If you'd get your paperwork done, you'd have plenty of room. But that's not what you meant, is it?" He knew she didn't expect an answer, but that didn't stop him from feeling like a fool because he couldn't.

"We aren't going to have any time together next week, Grissom."

"I know." He paused to clear his throat - and his mind. This couldn't be the way it was supposed to be. "Um, you've come a long way, though. You're not fluent, but that's something that will take more than an extra week can give, and knowing your persistence, I don't think it'll be a problem in the future. He'll appreciate your progress."

"That … sounded very clinical. You sound like your giving me my evaluation. What's my score, boss?" Her tone was light, but the crease between her brows gave her away. His detachment hurt.

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's … it's okay."

This was the point where she would try to laugh this off and leave and Grissom waited anxiously for that to happen. Instead, she remained in front of him; head bent, fingers toying with her sleeve. What was he supposed to say? That she signed beautifully? That her hands were strong, and even though a lot of her signs were still choppy, there was a sense of natural grace to them? If anyone should have a problem interpreting, all they would need to do is look into her eyes and her expressions would say it all. No one could insinuate that her communication skills weren't up to par. Her ability to focus her attention on the person she was conversing with was nothing short of breathtaking. How could he say all that and remain unbroken? He was barely holding on as it is.

"Grissom, what you said the other day -"

"Is not up for discussion," he all but barked.

She looked at him unbelievingly. "I can't pretend that it didn't happen - that you didn't say what you did."

"I apologize. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Why?"

"Sara, if you care for me at all, you'll let it go. This whole situation isn't easy for me."

"If I care?" she repeated and laughed mirthlessly. "Griss … I can't help but feel as though there's a choice in front of me."

And that was when the bottom fell out of his stomach. Or maybe his heart. He couldn't tell which, but he did know that the simple act of breathing was difficult at the moment. That was not the reason he told her he loved her. He just wanted to be honest for once. As much as he wanted her in his arms, his sole motivation was her and her pain, not an opportunity to throw his hat in the ring.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt," Warrick said, poking his head in the door. If he noticed any tension, he hid it well. "We have the company the driver worked for, I'm about to head over there now."

Seeing that Warrick was waiting for him, Grissom gave himself a mental shake and nodded. "Okay, I'm coming."

"I'll meet you outside."

"Sara …." he trailed off, not able to look her in the face. He looked down at his hands and noticed that they were spread out in front of him in a helpless gesture. What was going on? Was he apologizing?

"I know."

Grissom looked up just in time to see the last remnants of a sad smile. He honestly didn't understand what just happened here.

"Um … you should hurry and catch up with Warrick." She smirked then, but it came nowhere close to reaching her eyes. **"Last one there is a rotten egg."**

**TBC **


	8. Chapter 8

_Laura Katharine, thank you, my friend. You are one speedy gonzales with the whole beta thing. _

_Let see – I don't own CSI. Dammit. I'm using challenge lines from YTDAW improv challenge- first and last lines given. They are old ones, I was just too lazy to update._

_Oh, and get this. My cable TV went out about 15 minutes ago. Yep. You know what night this is. A sign, maybe? I may be better off._

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**"Go ahead and quote someone - I know you want you to,"** she all but purred, nuzzling her nose in the center of his chest.

Sara began to trail wet kisses up his chest, and when she reached the underside of his chin, nipping softly, Grissom couldn't contain his moan. "What makes you say that?"

"I can see it in your face." She hovered over him and teased his mouth with her own. "And you paused."

"I paused?" Confused, he pulled his head back as far as he could to get a better look at her. However, when she laughed at him, he decided he didn't care what she meant. He just wanted her to keep laughing.

"You know, that moment right before you recite someone else's words of wisdom, you ... pause. There are also a couple of different expressions that accompany 'the pause', but those don't matter. I could have my back to you and know in that moment the next words out of your mouth would be a quote."

"I'm that predictable?" He knew he sounded dejected, but he didn't care to disguise it. He didn't want to be predictable. In his mind, predictability led to stagnancy. While he enjoyed the comforts of that kind of certainty, it didn't mean that _he _wanted to be predictable. Surely, that would bore her over time.

"I think it's nice to have a little predictability. To have someone know you that well; isn't that amazing?"

While she made it sound nice, Grissom still had his doubts. "'Love withers with predictability; it's essence is surprise and amazement. To make love a prisoner of the mundane is to take its passion and lose it forever,'" he said, wondering if he was able to glaze over 'the pause'.

"That's a load of crap – I knew that was coming, by the way." She playfully kissed his mouth and moved to straddle his waist.

He gasped in surprise when he took in her form, perched upon his body. Surely he would have noticed before now that she was naked. The light coming in from his bedroom window played wonderfully against her curves, casting soft shadows that he suddenly wanted to explore.

Grissom was mesmerized. He rested his forearms on the tops of her thighs and gently took hold of her hips. He wanted - needed to touch her, but for some reason he couldn't let the conversation go. "Leo Buscaglia didn't think so."

"Leo Buscaglia doesn't know me. He doesn't know how that moment excites me." She placed her hands upon his and guided them up her sides, giving him permission touch her further. His fingers glided effortlessly, and he couldn't believe how soft she felt. Almost too soft, like his fingers would sink right into her if he pressed too hard.

She moaned quietly and continued, "I can't wait to be amazed by you finding a literary quote or a historic or scientific event relevant to the conversation at hand. Your pal Leo also has no clue the warmth I feel every time I wake up and hear you getting ready in the bathroom."

His fingertips felt like they were on fire when they traced her collarbone inwards only to dip down between her breasts. Feeling the swell of her flesh was a delicious tease. Her beautiful words and her beautiful body were like a drug – he wanted more.

"Gil, I lay here listening to you brushing your teeth and trimming your beard, knowing your every move before you even make it. I love that. It means that you are with me." She leaned forward and traced the curves of his ears affectionately. "I like you being with me."

"I like it, too," he released on a breath.

Sitting up, Sara grasped his hands and sorrowfully removed them from her body. He didn't understand why suddenly there were tears in her eyes. "It's too bad, though," she whispered, kissing his hands before placing them on the bed.

"What is?" He was confused by the sudden shift in the mood.

"That this will never happen for us."

Grissom sat up abruptly when she left the bed and started to get dressed. It was then that he realized the sunlight that gleamed through the window seemed to have disappeared, leaving the room dark and cold. Watching Sara pull the shirt over her head, he also noticed that her skin didn't look quite as silky as it did a few moments ago. Still very beautiful, and all too real – just like the ache that found it's place in the center of his chest. Ironically, the same spot she nuzzled and cared for earlier.

"Where are you going?"

"Back."

He wanted to ask her to stay but he the words were trapped inside him. Why, during important times such as this, did he always clam up? Was this his fate?

Easing herself into her jacket, Sara returned to give him one last kiss. "You're also predicable in other areas, Griss. You still won't let me choose you."

Grissom opened his eyes and abruptly rolled over face first into his pillow. The plush down pillow restricted his breathing, but he didn't quite care at the moment.

It seemed so real. So real, but not.

She was here, in his bed, letting him love her. In his bed. He didn't have to roll back over to know that he was alone, and that knowledge made him ache that much more. It was so profound, this feeling of loss. So profound that he found himself running into his bathroom in search of his toilet.

Leaning over his toilet, somewhat pleased that he really didn't have to vomit, Grissom started laughing. He couldn't believe how this woman affected him. She in some way had touched every cell in his body, so much that the mere absence of her presence made him sick. The funny thing was that she wasn't here to begin with. He couldn't understand how he could miss her touch, a touch of a lover, when he only experienced it in his most treasured dreams.

His laughter died as he slowly eased himself into a sitting position, reclining against his tub. She gave him a little piece of hope the other day, and he let it slide. He wanted to believe that it was in her best interest, but in reality, he was scared. When she first got engaged he asked her, in a backhanded kind of way, not to marry Jason. Her decision was solid and admirable, and he knew that she loved her fiance. Half of his brain argued that she wasn't engaged anymore, but the other half countered with the fact that it wasn't her choice not to be.

He helped her because he wanted to be her friend and help fix _something _for once. And because he loved her.

He loved her. Grissom finally came to terms with the truth.

There was no getting over Sara.

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There was no reason for him to be here at this hour. If she saw him, he knew that she wouldn't believe it was because of work. He really didn't know what he was doing here in the first place. The emptiness of his home was slightly suffocating, and before he knew it, he was walking through the doors of the lab in search of Sara.

This was crazy, he knew. She was probably out in the field working a case; this was the middle of shift after all.

"Griss?"

The rush of adrenaline that brought him here, dissipated quickly and he suddenly found himself without words. How did he always manage to do this?

"You're here ... early. Or late," she stated, obviously wondering why he was here.

"Early."

"Case got you busy?"

"Yes, I uh, just needed to, um ..." he trailed off, not able to conjure up an excuse. "Actually, no. I came here to see you."

Leaning in favor of momentum, he decided to contemplate her expression later, for he couldn't tell if it was shock or pleasure that currently graced her face. Either way, he took the light in her eyes as a good sign.

"Well, you've found me. Though I only have a minute or so, Nicky and I are about to head out."

"I think I only need a minute. For now." This was harder than he thought. He still didn't know exactly what he was doing; he just knew he had to do something. "Do you think you could fit in time to have dinner with me this week?"

"What?"

Not knowing if she actually didn't hear him, because he was sure he sounded strained, or if she needed clarification, he repeated, "Sara, would you please have dinner with me?"

"I, uh ... why?"

Grissom chewed on his lip, silently cursing himself for not having a practiced answer for this. He should have known that she wouldn't agree blindly.

"Because I want to give you a choice."

He could tell that she was nervous. After weeks of watching her hands and teaching her to sign, he easily recognized the jerky shakes of her hand as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"What about our schedule? Do we even have time for a dinner?"

"Sara, I'll make the time." His determined tone was in contrast to doubtful thoughts running through his mind. Sara was taking far longer than he had hoped she would to answer. When she broke eye contact with him and began to inspect her shoes, he thought he was done for.

"Okay," she replied quietly.

"Okay?"

"Yes. Okay."

And there they stood, in awkward silence. If he didn't have the 'asking her out' planned , he sure didn't have anything planned for her acceptance. This was incredibly ridiculous.

"Tomorrow night? I can pick you up at seven. Of course, assuming you're not planning on overtime."

"No, seven's good," she said, unsuccessfully containing her grin. "Oh, and we managed to do this right on time, here comes Nick." She nodded over his shoulder towards Nick who was quickly approaching. "Howdy partner," she greeted with her best twang.

"Sara, I told you, not another word," Nick admonished with a hint of a grin.

"Nick, why are you wearing a cowboy hat?" Grissom asked, a little confused as to why Nick looked as though he stepped out of a country western catalog.

"Why do you wear your straw hat?" Nick countered.

Grissom playfully cocked his brow at Sara's snicker before turning back to Nick. "Touche."

"I never thought I'd see the day when the sun would kick my ass like it has this week. I have new respect for the day shift."

Sara patted him on the shoulder with mock sympathy. "Aww, poor guy. I offered you my sunscreen. Cowboy up – we got ourselves a crime scene to tend to."

Even Grissom couldn't help but laugh when **Nick tossed the cowboy hat at her, effectively shutting her up.**

**TBC... **


	9. Chapter 9

_I really dislike the fact that it took me so long to update. I'm sorry and thanks for still hanging with me._

_Thanks to Laura Katharine for the beta. This cracks me up, I tell ya!_

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"Crazy. I was crazy once," Grissom defended. Stalling for time, he picked up his glass of wine and searched the depths of his memory for a nice, neat, non-embarrassing story to tell.

He had been pleasantly surprised at her appearance when he picked her up that evening. They never discussed where they were going and if he had been in his right mind when asking her out, he would have asked her preference. So when Sara opened the door, revealing herself in her standard jeans and top, Grissom gave himself a mental pat on the back for doing the same.

It was a mutual decision to eat at the popular Italian chain restaurant on Sahara Avenue; Italian being the safest choice to please both the vegetarian and the carnivore. Grissom toyed with the thought of proper wining and dining, but quickly realized that the less stress and importance he put on this evening, the better. In the end, if things didn't proceed in the manner of which he dreamed, he could say that they at least had a wonderful dinner out as friends.

Sara was getting impatient waiting for his answer, he knew, but their conversation had oddly turned into an 'anything you can do, I can do better' argument. When she had doubted he'd ever done anything crazy in his life, he actually felt mildly insulted. He'd done plenty of crazy things – if only she had known him in college. It was a well-guarded secret. Sure he was the serious student, but he was also an eighteen year old boy on his own for the first time.

The first thing that came to mind was the time he was sure Suanne Lennon was about to break-up with him. It was after the fourth time he missed a date because he was collecting what she called his real girlfriends. His bugs. Not wanting to lose his first girl, and blinded by what he thought was love, he did, in his opinion, one of the most ridiculous things ever. After quickly downing two Budweisers to steel his nerve, Grissom had kneeled down in front of her dorm and began singing 'You Are the Sunshine of My Life'. The other girls either laughed or whistled, but it was worth suffering the humiliation of singing his girlfriend's favorite song. That night Suanne took his virginity.

For some reason, he thought Sara wouldn't appreciate that story. Not because of his sexual history, neither of them were virgins, but because she would then know the truth. That he was capable of romantic gestures. That he could, and had, made declarations of love. He had taken a risk and it paid off. That bit of knowledge, he suspected, would upset her, and probably make her a little angry. It sure made him angry. Where did that eighteen year old go?

Raising her wine glass, Sara hid her smile behind the rim and kept her eyes on the empty plate in front of her. "I'm dangerously close to humming the Jeopardy theme, Griss. Get on with it."

"There are just too many to choose from, I'm thinking."

"You are so full of it."

"Okay," he said, leaning back and depositing his napkin on the table. "I've got one. It was my Art History exam."

"You took Art History?"

"I did – don't deter me. Our exam was divided in two parts. The written portion wasn't the problem, it was the practical part that had the class up in arms."

"I didn't know you had to draw for art history."

"You don't... usually. We were told to use our imaginations and incorporate our project with one of the themes from that semester. I can't draw a straight line, Sara, that's why I took history, and apparently there were other students with the same predicament."

"Oh no. What did you guys do?"

"Well, the night before our exam we broke into the art building -"

Shaking her head disbelievingly, she raised her hand to halt his explanation. "Wait a minute. Are you about to tell me that you were involved in a prank?"

"Is that so hard to believe?" He tried to look offended, he really did, but the incredulous look Sara tossed his way ruined any chance of keeping his game face.

"Yes! Oh man, go on – I'm listening."

"Deciding that the only thing we could do well was abstract, we, uh ... we turned the room upside down."

"You trashed the art room?"

"No, we literally turned the room upside down," he repeated, making a swirly motion with his forefinger. "The tables, chairs, her easels – all of them were upside down on the ceiling in an exact replica of the room. We even glued her inbox and stapler on her desk. Oh, and an apple."

"How did you guys do that?"

"High ceilings and rafters. It was all suspension, really. One of my classmates had a roommate who was a physics major. He helped us calculate weight and counter balance ..." he trailed off, noticing Sara's unsuccessful attempt at containing her laughter. "What?"

"Nothing. Nothing. This is just, uh ... not what I was expecting."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Not at all," she replied with the sweetest smile he'd seen in a long time.

The check had been paid and the waitress tipped. It was a pleasant evening with smiles and laughter and ... everything. Everything that he had missed about her over the years. Grissom knew that evenings like this were something he could get used to quite easily - even now, sitting here in the parking lot of her complex, he knew.

"I don't know what we're doing," Sara stated, breaking the silence with the subject both were avoiding during dinner.

"I don't either."

"I love Jason."

For some reason that didn't hurt him as much as it would have months ago, but it still left a slight sting of discouragement. "I know."

"I also love you. You know that, right?"

"Knowing it and actually hearing it ..." he shook his head in silent awe. "Say it again."

"I love you," she released in a rushed whisper. "I feel like I'm cheating."

"I'm sorry."

"This is all screwed up, Griss. When I first started dating Jason, I fought it. I knew that it was time, you know, to start dating again. But that didn't mean it was _really _what I wanted. We had a handful of dates and ... they were awkward. It was hard – the communicating – but he ... His translator came with us the first couple of times - until we found a way to communicate that we were comfortable with. I knew to look into his eyes and direct my attention toward him. It was either the third or fourth date when I realized something."

"What was that?"

"That I haven't looked into another man's eyes in a really long time. It made me sad and maybe just a little relieved. I just never thought that anyone's eyes could ever give me what your did. A weight was lifted. I didn't think I was able to move on from you, but I knew then that I could."

"Well, what's different about now?" Needing something to hold on to, he placed his hands on the top of the steering wheel. He wondered what she would say or do if he started up the car right now and drove off with her.

"You. I've learned more about you these past few weeks than I have since the day we met. You've been more open – God, you're helping me with Jason. I don't know if I could have done that."

"I think that you would surprise yourself," Grissom replied and leaned forward to rest his chin over his hands. He really didn't know what was going to happen, but he knew that looking at her right now would be near to impossible.

"When he asked me to marry him, I knew how absolute my decision was. I still loved you, but, no matter how much I wanted it, a future with you wasn't an option. I was ready to live a new life – ready to be loved."

He closed his eyes at her admission. He gave her a chance to choose and her decision hurt the second time as much as it did the first. "Then why are we here?"

"Because you asked me to dinner," she replied with a lightness that contradicted the weight of the air around them. It was forced, and if Grissom had been looking at her, he would have noticed her smile was equally so. "And because in a couple of days I'll see Jason again and it's quite possible we'll get back together. If I marry him, Grissom, then that means that you and I are done. Forever. I know that's what marriage means and I understood that then, but now ..." she paused, waiting for him to look at her. When he didn't, she reached over and settled her hand on the nape of his neck - lightly at first, but then applied slight pressure and squeezed. "I didn't know that I was going to fall _in_ love with you again."

Her touch was almost too much for him to bear. She had a hold of his neck in a possessive manner and the idea of her owning him ... he wanted that – he wanted that so much. When she loosened her grip and trailed her fingers around to his jawline, he turned his head to get a look at her. "I don't know what to do," she whispered, her fingers in constant motion over his beard.

He knew what to do. About this. About them. But it had to be her decision. "'The hardest thing to learn in life is which bridge to cross and which to burn.' You'll do whatever is best for you, and nothing less."

She smiled through her smirk and even though he knew he gave her no answers, she was still pleased by his comment. "How did I know you were going to quote?"

His gaze grew wistful as he recalled his dream – maybe it could come true. "You just knew," he replied lovingly.

Resisting the pull was futile, and knowing she was meeting him halfway – he would never turn away from her. They stopped just short of touching when she placed her fingers over his chin, signaling him to stop. Her breath was warm and sweet across his face and even with the close proximity, he could tell she was looking at his lips. This was wrong. The timing was wrong, but he didn't care.

"This isn't going to help things," she whispered, looking into his eyes. She didn't pull away. In fact, her thumb slid across his bottom lip in a way that made his own breath hitch.

"I know." He was afraid to touch her; afraid to ruin this moment, but finally his hands rose and gently pushed the hair away from her face. He wanted to see her face; he wanted to see as much of her as he could.

She kept her eyes on his and nodded absently. He didn't know if it was a nod of permission or if it was her answer to some inner struggle, she probably didn't even know she did it. They were going to kiss, he knew. They were going to kiss and her dilemma would still be there when they pulled apart, but he wasn't going to let that fact ruin their moment of living fantasy. He wasn't sorry and he wasn't going to be, and from the look in Sara's eyes, he knew that she felt the same.

It was a light brushing at first. Sara's slight gasp almost made him pull away, but when she closed her eyes and pressed harder, that thought was banished. Their lips were slippery and they glided across each other for several minutes easily. He tried to keep things from getting too crazy, more afraid he'll scratch her up with his beard than anything. She kept playing with it and he knew that she liked it, and even though he secretly loved the idea of marking her with it, he didn't want to hurt her.

"Sara -" he half whispered, half pleaded. Wanting more, getting more, deserving more; they were all different things. Sara apparently thought that they should get what they wanted, because she pulled him closer and gave him access to her slightly open mouth, silently pleading with him to make the move himself and kiss her properly. He knew he was far from deserving, but took what Sara offered.

The press of her tongue against his was slow and hot. So hot he thought she was on fire – or maybe he was on fire. Grissom was so lost in the smoothness, the slickness, he didn't notice when his hand fisted her hair in the back of her head. Her grunt of approval he did notice, along with the fact that she was suddenly higher than him, having rose to her knees for better leverage.

Pulling away from her softly, Grissom reached up and trailed kisses along her cheek. He gently guided her ear closer to his mouth and whispered, "We have to stop."

"I know. I'm sorry," she said, pulling away but remaining on her knees.

Grissom smoothed down her wayward hair, searching for the words, but coming up short. This time it wasn't silence from a coward, it was silence from a man who, no matter the spans of his vocabulary, couldn't find words to give the moment justice.

"Are you okay?" he asked, finally.

"I think so." At his questioning brow, she elaborated. "I'm having a problem with breathing right now."

Grissom couldn't contain his grin at rendering her breathless. "Should we call somebody?" he teased.

"Maybe." She leaned her forehead against his and laughed. "I don't know – I can't think straight. What's the number for 911?"

TBC...


	10. Chapter 10

Yep. Still using the improv challenge lines from YTDaW...

Thanks Laura Katharine for the beta – in this chapter and last.

* * *

"Come on, it'll be fun. We haven't gone out in a long time."

Grissom sat at the end of the table eating his lunch and trying his best to block out Nick and Greg's attempt to coerce Warrick. He knew that the guys were in rare form tonight when they offered to buy everyone pizza, and while Grissom appreciated their energy, he wished they would stop pushing for the answer they wanted.

"I'm sure it will be, but Tina's parents are in town, man. I'm not going anywhere for at least another week."

"Ouch. Trapped at home by the ball and chain. How unfortunate," Greg piped in just after taking in a mouth full of greasy cheese.

"'What a happy and holy fashion it is that those who love one another should rest on the same pillow' – Hawthorne. I would say that Warrick is the fortunate one, Greg." The words were out of Grissom's mouth before he had a moment to filter them. He was thankful when Nick and Greg seemed to have shrugged off the comment, but the knowing look he received from Warrick left him feeling a little exposed.

"Speaking of sacred unions... has anyone heard from Sara?" Nick asked. "It's been four days, I was hoping to hear from her by now."

"You know better, man. She's not going to call in with updates," Warrick said, standing to throw out his trash. "Let her have her time away."

Smirking, Greg reached over the table to grab the last slice. "Yeah, let her share her pil-low," he sang.

Grissom always disliked conversations that evolved around people who weren't there to comment or defend, but the fact that this one was about Sara made his blood boil. This line of conversation was heading into territory that Grissom deemed inappropriate and, even though he knew they had her best interest in mind, he didn't care to hear their opinion on the matter. "Or better yet, let her private life be just that. Break's over. Thanks for the pizza."

The guys relented and filed out the room one by one, passing Catherine who stood leaning against the doorway.

"You sure know how to clear a room. And what's this?" she asked, picking up the empty pizza box and setting it beside the trashcan. "How come no one told me there was pizza?"

Ignoring her comment, he steered the conversation toward work. "Where are you on your case, Catherine?"

"Nothing but paperwork. Shoptalk isn't going to get you out of this. I have to hand it to you, Gil. I thought you would hole yourself up in your office all week until she came back, but no - here you are yakking it up with the guys over pizza. So, have you heard from her?"

"I believe you heard what I said to the guys."

"Yeah, but that's them," she said with a wave of her hand. "What's the word?"

Grissom leaned back in the chair and regarded Catherine carefully. He knew she meant well and if they were talking about anyone else other than Sara, he might have considered opening up to her. "I haven't spoken to Sara since she left and I don't expect to until she comes back. She has taken vacation time to spend with Jason – I hope you all can respect that."

"I don't believe it," she leaned over and whispered with obvious shock. "You've gotten over it, haven't you?"

"I'm ... okay with it."

"Huh." She leaned back in her seat and shrugged. "Well, good – I guess."

Her deflated, if not disappointed tone stoked his curiosity. "What?" he asked defensively.

"I don't know, Gil. I guess I ... I just thought that when push came to shove, you'd shove back. At least a little."

He couldn't help but look at her disbelievingly. She was never really a fan of Sara and even though things might not go the way he wished they would, he thought Catherine would approve of his acceptance. "You were the one who told me that it was my decision on how I was going to deal with this."

"I just don't want you to have any regrets."

He didn't tell her the regrets that mattered the most started not too long after the day he met Sara. Mistakes of their past couldn't be fixed, but if given the chance, he'd never make them again. But about Sara's future – with or without him – he had no regrets on how he handled everything. It was hard for him to regret anything when he had the beautiful memory of how her lips glided across his so effortlessly – so passionately. He never thought he'd have the opportunity to experience that.

Before he could respond, he felt the vibration of his pager. "I hate to cut this short – you know how I love these unsolicited conversations we have – but Brass calls."

"You know, we _are _friends. If you would volunteer some things now and then, I wouldn't push like I do."

He didn't doubt her sincerity, and maybe someday he'd be able to talk with her about Sara – but not today and never without Sara's permission. "I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

He almost laughed when he drove up and spotted Brass on the hood of his car – donut in one hand and coffee in the other. Jim looked like the typical stereotype. "So, the diet's off?"

"I don't turn down donuts," Brass replied, wiping the traces of powdery confection from his mouth. "Besides, this is my cheat day."

Grissom nodded toward the decaying house. "What do I have here?"

"Dead body, little creepy crawlies, and that tall slender brunette who gets her vacation days and work days mixed up."

Grissom froze. "Sara's here?"

"Yep. Drove up, handed me a cup of coffee, this bag of goodies and went inside. I'm blaming my break of diet on her, you know."

"Hmm." Grissom's thoughts didn't dare venture into the possibilities here. He was at a crime scene and his attention was needed here, but he couldn't help but to feel the slightest excitement over seeing her again. He missed her.

"The house is abandoned but apparently gets used from time to time as a 'meeting place' for randy teenagers," Brass continued. "It was reported anonymously– we think it was some kid who didn't want to get in trouble for being out here."

Grissom was already walking toward the house when he replied. "Okay. Thanks."

He was like a magnet, really. He had always been drawn to her, but after having very little contact over the past few days, it was like he was parched and she was the glass of water he so desperately needed.

Grissom found her with her back to the door, kneeling by the body. He noticed she didn't have her kit with her, but could tell by the way she held herself, that she was in complete work mode. It was then that he realized she was here in need of a distraction and it bothered him that he couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Hey," he said squatting beside her and opening his kit.

"Hey. I was thinking you might need some help."

He could tell by her tone that she was inwardly pleading for him not to make her leave, but he really couldn't ignore that she wasn't supposed to be here.

"Sara, I have two questions - what are you doing here and where's _my_ coffee and donuts?"

"Hobby's still the same. I bought myself a new police scanner last Christmas – needed something to put under my tree. As for the donuts – they were actually for you but Brass begged me for them," she replied with a playful smirk.

"Sara-" he began.

"Brass already filled me in on your case," she said, interrupting his protest. "You want me to collect or take pictures?"

"I want to know why you're here," he stated gently. "You're supposed to be on vacation."

The flash in her eyes was unexpected and Grissom knew that whatever drove her here couldn't have been good. "I know where I'm _supposed _to be, but I'm not there - I'm here. I don't want to talk about it."

"I can't just leave it at that. Is it something I can help you with?"

"Hmm. Yeah, you can help me." She rose to her feet and crossed her arms defensively. " I hurt someone I love today. You can tell me how I'm supposed to live with that. I'm asking because I think you've had some practice at it."

Standing to meet her at eye level, he was shocked by the range of emotions that traveled through him. What she said hurt, but it also pissed him off. He knew that he still had things to make up for, but having it thrown in his face like this angered him.

"Don't do that. If you can't forgive me, then tell me so, but don't blame your decision on me. I'm assuming that's what happened – that you broke it off with him permanently?"

"I told him that I kissed you and that I'm confused right now. I don't know what to make of this side of you I've seen over the weeks and it scares me, Grissom."

That hurt him more than her previous comment. Things were never going to be easy for them, he knew, but did they always have to struggle? Did she not trust his feelings? Did she think he would retreat once he got what he wanted? He had no idea how he could prove himself to her anymore than he already had. Maybe this was an impossible dream.

"Sara..." he trailed tiredly.

"I'm sorry."

"No. It's, um... okay." He rubbed his forehead and sighed. "It's okay. I have to ask, though – are you okay to work?"

"I'm here because I need to work and ... I want to be near you – I just don't want to talk to you," she added quickly.

More confused than ever, Grissom relented. "O..kay."

"It's not that I don't want to talk to you, but that it's -"

Grissom held up his hand to halt her explanation. "Between you and Jason. It's none of my business."

"Yeah."

"Okay."

They stood there for long moments just staring at each other. Grissom was vaguely aware that this conversation was held over a bug infested body and it crossed his mind that this may not have been the best place for this. He had a fresh case to tend to, but suddenly he was tired. "Are you ready to work now?"

"Yeah." She squinted a bit before adding gently, "You know, I'm not _scared _of you."

"I thought you didn't want to talk about this?" he asked with a sharpness he didn't quite intend. "You can document."

"Fine. Just hand me the camera."

_**TBC**_


End file.
